The Waiting World
by MegElemental
Summary: Sequel to Nothing Like the Sun. but has slightly less gravitas. Strongly advise you read that first. 'Life's hard growing up, especially if your dad is a powerful warlock and Arthurian Legends live in your house.' READ NLTS FIRST!
1. In The Picture Frame

'FINE!' I yelled, slamming the door shut with as much strength as I could muster, before throwing myself onto my bed and sulking.

'And don't come down until you're ready to apologize!' my mum hollered after me, her accent making it sound amusing and downright scary at the same time. She has never lost her strong welsh accent, even though she moved down from Wales when she was twenty and has lived here ever since. By here I mean Englefield Green, Egham, Surrey, England. Pretty near London.

I angrily snatched up my iPod and jammed the earphones into my ears, turning the music up loud to drown out my anger and pent-up frustration. Which, if I can't control it, can manifest itself in a very physical, rather scary way. I tried to focus on the lines of the song, the rhythm and the beats in the bar, the different instruments in the background and the tone of the voice, but I was just so angry and frustrated it didn't work nearly as well as usual. Doors nearby slammed, making the whole house rattle; my door flew open and several books shot off my shelves and hit the opposite wall. I shut my eyes and opened them; they shone bright gold. Before things could get any worse dad and Aunt Morgana appeared in the doorway, my aunt rushing over and sitting beside me, stroking my hair and muttering to me, trying to soothe. Dad replaced my books with a glance and looked into my eyes with his own shining brightly, and mine died down.

'Sorry,' I said, embarrassed. Aunt Morgana sighed sympathetically.

'It's going through puberty,' she sighed. 'It's much harder to control.' Dad, however, was looking at me with barely hidden pride.

'You're going to be so powerful,' he said, smiling at me. I was half pleased, and half annoyed. Having magic is cool, and I would never be normal, but having the most powerful warlock ever as your dad means there is a hell of a lot of pressure on you.

After fussing a while, they both left me in peace. Peace was a rare commodity in this house; not only did my parents and two younger sisters live here, Aunt Morgana, Aunt Gwen and Uncle Arthur live here too. They have done for nearly five years. In fact, it was five years ago on Halloween, and that was a month ago. It feels like they've been here forever.

If one of my sisters isn't coming in to bother me, then someone else is coming in to look at themselves in my huge cupboard mirror, or to borrow something. I sometimes think I'd get more peace in Piccadilly Circus. I've been clamouring to my parents for a lock, but mum won't let me get one. She knows that if I do, although the magicians in the house would be able to get in even if it was closed, she wouldn't be able to. And I understand, but it doesn't stop me feeling annoyed.

I fall out with my mum the most. As she's not a warlock, like dad, sometimes she can't understand what I go through. Like the temptation of using it against people who deserve it. That's what got me into trouble in the first place. The other day, at school, one of the idiots who some girls fawn over made my friend cry. When I get angry, I can't control my magic very well, as you saw before, and I was very angry. Suffice it to say two of them ended up with broken arms and legs, and who was blamed? Well, actually, no one, because it looked like an accident. The Ping-Pong table fell on them, which baffled the teacher, as it seemed to have been picked up and lobbed over the room. Of course, the only other person in the room was me. Mum got talking to the teacher and knew immediately what had happened. She knows I'm as weak as a pigeon, and that there was no way I could have lobbed the table using my hands. But I didn't need them.

Well, that was yesterday. Today I tripped one up, a huge, solidly-built rugby player. I took him down. It looked like I was amazingly strong, and I did get the blame for that, but Mum knew.

'_2-4-6-8, ain't never too late,_

_Me an' my radio driving on through the night_

_3-5-7-9, on a double white line,_

_Motorway sun coming up with the morning light.'_

I sang along with my iPod, ignoring the pile of homework that sat in a corner of my room. I just wasn't in the mood, and why bother with it when it could do itself at night, while I was asleep? I could even make sure there was the required amount of mistakes present.

'Jen, can I borrow your…'

'No,' I said, immediately. Alle pouted and walked straight into my room anyway.

'You don't even know what I was going to ask for,' she grumbled at me. I sat up and looked at her, taking out an earphone.

'You want to borrow my laptop,' I said. She pulled a face at me. Charming.

'Actually, I wanted to borrow your iPod charger. My iPod's run out of battery.' I sighed heavily, before switching off my own and getting up.

'Use your magic,' I said tiredly. 'It works just as well.' I had to figure all this out by myself. My sisters are lucky they've got me.

Alle is four years younger than me, roughly. My birthday is Armistice Day, and her's is Halloween. Marta is a spring bunny, born on April 25th, and is about 3 years younger than Alle. At the moment she is 9, Alle is 12 and I'm 16, and enjoying the delights of magic in puberty.

'Mum says go down and pick your advent calendar,' Marita, or Marta for short(er) burst into my room. She's the odd one out of the family, with brown eyes like mum. She's also got brown hair. Alle and I are both pale, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, like dad.

'Why does everybody feel the need to come into my room!' I cried, frustrated, throwing my hands up at the ceiling. 'I can't go down,' I told Marta. 'Mum told me to stay up here.' I knew that sounded stupid- a sixteen-year-old, scared stiff of her mother, but I never liked people being angry at me. I'm a bit of a wuss.

'Go and apologise, then,' Marta said, as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. I glared at her. Apologizing meant swallowing my pride, something I hated to do.

'I'd go now, if I were you,' Alle said conspiratorially. 'Before Uncle Arthur comes home and nicks the best one. We've already chosen ours.'

I compared the horrible idea of getting the worst calendar, with the bad picture and chocolates, to apologizing, and made my decision.

'Alright, I'm coming down,' I said, jumping off my bed and pretending not to notice when Alle quickly swiped my iPod charger.

I made up with mum quickly- she never really likes falling out with us, and has to be one of the best tempered people I know – and I managed to get a decent calendar for my troubles. Mum always buys a load from Tesco's, and it's first come first serve. The quality of your calendar is based on the type of chocolate and the picture on the front. Uncle Arthur and Marta always have an argument about who has the best, one that she always wins, despite being younger. Much, much younger, although to be fair Uncle Arthur was asleep for most of his life.

Mine was decent; it had reindeer on the front and was Cadbury's, so I was happy. I retreated into my room with my prize and quickly put it out of sight. We were supposed to keep them in the kitchen, but I had yet to put my name on it and didn't want anyone to take it by mistake. Then I relaxed back, dreading the next day of school when I would have to face the music from the boy I flattened. I couldn't use magic to protect myself again. For one, it would be too obvious, and also dad and Morgana would be able to sense it, and I had a sneaking suspicion so could Marta. Alle was not as powerful as us, despite looking almost the mirror image of dad. Marta, despite her features being completely different to Dad's, is the most powerful. She was doing magic from the womb. I'm sort of in the middle, which is ok. If I have to go through this now, I dread to see what Marta will be like at puberty. Hopefully I'll have moved out by then.

Uncle Arthur arrived home from work, and he and Dad both raced into the kitchen for their calendars. It is always funny to watch them messing about as though they were kids, but Morgana says they never properly grew up. These little scuffles always end up with Arthur winning, because Dad isn't allowed to use magic.

When I watch them having a laugh, or getting out of their cars in their suits, it can be hard to believe that in front of me are King Arthur and his trusted advisor, Merlin the great magician. We watched Disney's the sword in the stone a few years ago, and god did it make us laugh.

I sat in my room for the rest of the evening, dreading the coming morning. I had, as usual, a constant stream of visitors, starting with Dad, who came into to quietly compliment me on my use of magic, and Arthur, who commented on how like my father I was.

'He used magic against me, you know,' he told me. I did know. I had heard the story many times, but I smiled and nodded and tried to look interested all the same. I do love Uncle Arthur. Sometimes you can really see the King in him. At the moment everyone's very excited because Aunt Gwen is pregnant. She and Arthur had been trying for so long everyone thought she couldn't have kids, but it happened eventually and Uncle Arthur was over the moon. Unfortunately he became very overprotective of Gwen, more so than he was before, and is starting to grate on everybody's nerves, even Gwen's, and she is probably the most patient woman in the world. I was talking to Aunt Morgana, and she said Gwen had to be, or she would never have survived marrying Arthur.

Tea dragged out, as everyone gathered in the dining room for the fish pie Mum had made. I mainly sat and played with the mush on my plate, letting those around me do most of the talking. There had been a slight incident when Marta, who hated salmon, found some on her plate. She made a fuss, and it was discovered that she seemed to be the only one with the salmon, so I swapped with her, mainly because I was too tired to put up a fuss.

Dad noticed my unusual silence and he nudged my arm.

'What's up, Jennie?' he asked quietly, filling me a small glass of wine. I loved wine, but Mum didn't like me drinking a lot, especially on a school night. I sipped it pensively.

'Nothing,' I said, unconvincingly. Dad gave me a look.

'You're usually the one doing all the talking!' he pointed out. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong,' I said again, and he left me to my wallowing. I had a feeling that he hadn't given up, however.

That night I hardly got any sleep. Tossing and turning, the red light on my digital clock showed the minutes and seconds ticking away before I had to go and face him again.

Tom Harris. The most popular boy in the year, best in every sport, even pretty clever in lessons, considered somewhat of a hottie, and the most insensitive b*****d I had ever met. How I longed to show him just how powerful I was, how I could squash him with a mere look… but I could never do it. I had to keep quiet about my ability. Dad said that magic breeds distrust and questions. When it was time for Arthur to take his rightful place as King, he told me, would be when we could be ourselves. But until then…

I highly doubted Arthur would ever be King. Politics had changed since he had reigned, and, to be honest, we didn't need him. I told Dad this.

'They woke up for a reason, Jennie,' he said. 'I don't know what the reason is, but there is one, and we will find out soon enough.

Great, I thought. That's something to look forward too.

The next morning I was so tired from the night before it wasn't hard pretending to be ill. Mum believed me; she fussed over me for a good part of the morning before she had to go and work. She works from home, as she needs to stay near the Knight's house. They live next door, and they're all really nice. A bit confused with modern technology, but a pleasant bunch. My favourite is Sir Bedivere. He's always pleased to see us girls, anxious to tell us what new thing he's found out.

Dad knew, though. He came in before he left for work, and sat on the end of my bed.

'If you don't face them today you'll have to do it tomorrow,' he told me. I sighed, not even trying to keep up the pretence of illness.

'I know,' I groaned. 'I just… didn't want to today.'

'They might not be as bad as they seem,' Dad said. 'Arthur turned out pretty good.' I smiled. Dad had told us all about the bully Arthur had been when he'd first met him.

'I'm not as brave as you,' I complained, 'and there's no way I'll save this guy from an evil witch and be promoted to his manservant.'

'I should hope not,' Dad laughed. 'But you never know,' he got up from my bed and grinned at me. 'They might not be who you thought they were.'

I enjoyed my day of freedom in bed. Mum occasionally came in with toast and tea, which was nice, and I worked my way through my library books. Aunt Morgana visited me and brought magic books; Aunt Gwen popped in with chocolate, some clothes she'd seen while out shopping for the baby and bought for me, and lots of chat. Both my Aunts are so different; Morgana solemn and taciturn, Gwen lively and mothering; it amazes me what such good friends they are.

Unfortunately the day went much quicker than if I'd been at school, and all too soon I was preparing for bed, dreading the next day. Dad had warned me that if I was ill yesterday he'd tell Mum I'd faked it. I knew I had no choice.

At about midnight I gave up trying to sleep, slipped on my tracksuit bottoms and fleece before sneaking quietly out the house, nicking Arthur's bike and cycling off to the woods. When I reached the hazel tree I opened it with a few whispered words and a flash of my eyes. I left the bike by the tree; no one came into these woods at night, and if they did steal it I could easily get it back with magic. Then I magicked a ball of blue light and made my way into the passage, through the cavern where the others had slept for the past thousand years, down a further tunnel until it opened out into a large cavern, with a river running through the bottom. Sitting up on the huge rock in the middle, as though expecting me, sat the great dragon.

'Young warlock,' he rumbled at me. I sat down, and poured out my worries. The dragon had retreated to his past prison when he realized mankind could and would kill him if they got the chance. Hard dragon scales are no match for guns and bombs.

'What should I do?' I asked, pitifully. The dragon looked at me thoughtfully.

'Face your fears,' he said. 'You are powerful, Jenna. No one can take that away from you. And Merlin will condone the use of magic as self-defence.' He flew away, ending the meeting. I was slightly happier – he had practically given me the go-ahead to use magic against Harris. I cycled back, surprised to find that no one had noticed my disappearance. Relieved, I quickly changed and got back into bed, and I slept better than I had for the past few days.

-

I walked into the classroom with my head slightly bent down, but luckily for me, the only people in there were my friends and my form teacher.

'Hello Jenna,' Miss Butler said, cheerily. 'Are you feeling better?'

'Yes thank you,' I muttered at the floor. She smiled at me, and then walked out the door, telling us she had to go do a teachery thing and she would be back in a few minutes. Of course, she always says that, but ends up coming back just as registration finishes.

'Hey Jen,' Alice Mason, one of my best friends, said as I sat down beside her. Georgina Davies and Kim Bradford, my other best friends, repeated the greeting.

Alice Mason had been the one Tom Harris had been insulting. The first time he had I'd thrown a table tennis table at him, but unfortunately had missed and hit his best friend, Ben Johnson. The next day, he'd done it again, so I'd tripped him up, quite obviously, in the middle of the corridor. Both the boys were in my class. Lucky me.

They wouldn't know that it was me behind the flying table, but they would know that I was the one who threw Harris on the floor. I think he was quite shocked. I've always been very quiet at school, only having a few select friends. It's easier to be anonymous when I could so easily reveal who I am with a slip of the tongue.

'Thanks for tripping Harris up the other day,' Alice said. I grunted.

'I didn't know you had it in you!' Kim said, laughing. We rowed together at the school boat club and often joked about how we were the weeds of the team. Kim was even smaller than I was, and I had inherited my mother's shortness and my father's beanpole-like-ness, which was not a good mixture unless you wanted to look like you could be blown over by a breath of wind. I was about average height, but as most of the girls in my year wore huge heels and the boys were all freakishly tall, I looked tiny.

'No problem,' I told Alice. 'It was my pleasure, actually.'

'You know he's not going to be happy,' Georgie said, the timid one of the group.

'I know,' I said, sadly. 'But he can't do anything to me in class, can he?' The others just looked at me, and I sighed. 'Oh hell.'

Everyone was in the classroom when the buzzer sounded. Everyone except for Miss Butler. I felt a slight twinge of guilt when Ben hobbled in on his crutches. Ben never said anything really. He was pretty quiet, for Harris' friend. He never caused trouble in class, either.

'Sorry I'm late, guys!' Miss Butler swanned in late, and hastily took the register. I scrambled to get out of the classroom first. I had Geography in Woburn village first period, all the way over the other side of the school, and I wanted a head start.

I had no trouble for the whole of the school day, and I was wondering whether Harris had either forgotten or decided I was below his notice. In any case, I had made it to the end of the day without being hurt, which was a plus.

I was just leaving the school, lugging my heavy bag that seemed to contain all the books I owned. I wasn't worried about the ludicrous amount of homework I'd been set; I complained along with my fellow classmates and groaned with the best of them, but I never did my homework. At least by hand. We live near the school, and I always walk- mainly because I hate being in traffic. When I reached the lights, however, I heard someone call my name out from behind me. I whipped around, which was probably a mistake. I should have ignored him.

'Oi, Emery!'

Dad had changed his druid name slightly to become his real name a few hundred years ago. Emrys became Emery, but he kept the name Merlin, however many strange looks he received. I thank God nearly every day he gave us normal modern names, not ye olde Camelot ones. I think my mother might have put her foot down at some of his suggestions.

'What?' I asked, as I saw Harris and a load of his mates strutting towards me. My voice, which was trying for nonchalant, came out as a slight squeak. I tried not to watch Ben limping along, as it made me feel really guilty.

'I still need to repay you for the other day,' he said, looking down at me from his six foot height. I opened my mouth to disagree, feeling the magic inside of me rush to protect.

'Err, Tom? Why can't you just let this go?' Ben sort of half-lifted a crutch, and I nodded furiously. Harris just smirked, and then lunged for my bag.

I'm embarrassed to say I did scream like a girl, but when you see a six foot guy launching himself at you it's something you don't take with a small grin. He dashed across the pedestrian crossing and stood in the island in the middle of the road, holding my bag out. I stood and watched him, aghast, as he began to empty my bag out onto the pavement, unable to reach him as the traffic had suddenly decided to all come past at that moment. I watched in horror as my book fell out, the one I'd found in my locker today, the one I'd thought I'd lost. My magic book. It stood out from the school books like a sore thumb and it made Harris stop and dump my bag on the floor. He bent over and picked the leather-bound tome up, opening it to reveal yellow parchment covered with spells and potions Aunt Morgana had taught me.

'What's this?' he sneered, flicking though it. 'A magic book? You freak.'

The other boys cheered and jeered at Harris as he waved it at me.

'Give that back,' I said, through gritted teeth.

'Or what?' he smirked at me. 'You'll cast a spell on me?' And then he chucked it into the road, in front of an oncoming van. I swore and ran out to get it, not caring about the van. I could stop it.

But it stopped before it reached me. A familiar beeping sounded, and I looked back to see Ben standing by the lights. He'd pressed the button. A wave of relief rushed through me. I wouldn't expose myself today, not now. I shot him a grateful look, and Harris just snorted at him and stalked off with the rest of the crew, leaving crippled Ben behind. I crossed in front of the impatient van driver and began to pack my stuff on the island in the middle.

'Here,' Ben said, hobbling over the crossing when the green man appeared and starting to pick up some of my stuff that was strewn across the floor.

'Errr… thanks,' I said, confused. Ben was Tom's friend, so him helping me was slightly strange.

'What Tom did was out of order,' he said as he handed me back my chemistry book. I took it and smiled hesitantly. He smiled back.

'Look, I'm sorry about your leg,' I said, before I had time to think about what I was saying.

'What do you mean?' He asked. 'It wasn't your fault. It was just my bad luck.' I gulped.

'Errr, nothing. Just forget I said anything,' I mumbled hurriedly, before hoisting my bag back onto my shoulder and pressing the button to cross. But just as the light turned to green and I was about to walk across a hand caught my arm. I turned to look at Ben.

'I want to make it up to you,' he said, his nut-brown eyes clear and earnest. 'How far away do you live?'

'Just around the corner,' I said, looking at him quizzically.

'Then, I'd like to walk you home,' he looked down at his crutches and grinned. 'In the loosest possible sense.'

o0o

'What's this?' my dad said, amazed, when he poked his head into my room later that night. I frowned at him.

'I'm just doing my homework,' I said. 'It's not like it's a big thing.'

'You never do your homework,' Dad said, coming in and inspecting my books. I shrugged.

'I just felt like it,' I said, feeling like nothing could ruin my good mood.

'Ahh, Marie Curie. I met her, you know,' he said, smiling. I sighed.

'You met everyone.'

'I know,' Dad grinned, before studying me carefully. 'You look happy.'

'Is there a law against it?'

'No. Why are you doing your homework?'

'Errr…'

'And I want the real reason,' he said, mock-sternly. I sighed.

'Fine. Mum said I should try and do some properly.'

'So you are?'

'Yup.'

'Since when did you do what your Mum says? You hate doing homework!'

'I'm just in a good mood,' I said, packing my physics books away and switching on my computer. I'd forgotten how much of a waste of time homework actually was.

'I told you once you faced it you'd be fine,' Dad said, and then he left, grinning like a fool. 'And your good mood is probably due to the fact a boy dropped you off home today.'

'Who told you that? You were at work!' I said, my good mood evaporating rapidly.

'A little bird,' he said quickly, before beating a hasty retreat. I chased after him, but stopped on the landing.

'MARTA!' I yelled.

'Uh oh.'


	2. But I know by now

'_Sitowa tani.' _

'_Sitowa tani.'_

'_SITOWA TANI!'_

Nothing happened. The book in front of my remained resolutely closed, and I sighed heavily. Only yesterday I'd watched my little sister, Marta, say exactly the same words and the book had flipped open on the correct page first time.

I'm the least powerful of my sisters. I'm also stuck in the middle. Life's hard.

I stood up and pushed the chair back violently.

'I can't do it,' I yelled, frustrated, running a hand through my black hair, which was, by now, sticking up all over the place.

'Just one more go,' said my aunt Morgana. 'I know you'll get it next time.'

'That's what you said last time,' I said mulishly, but I sat back down and pointed my hand at the book once more.

'_Sitowa Tani,' _I whispered, feeling the magic rush within me and my eyes glow. I sighed in relief as the book grudgingly opened.

'There,' said Morgana, impressed. 'Didn't she do well, Gwen?'

'Brilliant, Alle!' Aunt Gwen called from the other side of the huge dining room table. Gwen was feeding her one year old son, Tom, named after her father. Uncle Arthur had wanted to call his firstborn son Uther, after _his_ father, but my dad had pointed out that Uther wasn't a very common name in this age and Gwen pointed out that Uther had ordered _her_ father to be killed. So in the end they settled on Tom.

Tom is one of the sweetest babies I've ever seen. Well, he's a toddler now, I suppose. He has bright brown eyes, from his mother, and fluffy blonde hair that everyone ruffles at least once a minute. Right now he'd spread most of his food over his face and Gwen was trying to clean him up.

My mum swooped past and picked up the cookbook I'd been enchanting.

'Lasagne?' she said, looking down at the recipe page. 'I thought you didn't like lasagne?'

'I meant for it to be Pasta bake,' I sighed. Mum nodded and turned the page.

'Only one page away,' Morgana said consolingly.

'I suppose,' I said, unhappily.

'Well, you're better at healing spells than Jenna and Marta,' my mum said. That made me feel a little bit better.

'Oh, look at the time!' said Aunt Morgana, catching sight of the large clock over the mantelpiece. 'Jenna will be home soon!'

'With her _boyfriend,' _Marta said, walking in and grabbing a breadstick from a bowl in the middle of the table.

'That should be fun,' I said, gleefully. I couldn't wait to see how Ben Johnson would cope with our extended family.

'Now, girls,' Mum said, disapprovingly, 'I don't want anyone messing things up for Jenna.' She swept out the dining room into the kitchen, probably to cook the pasta bake.

Mum, Aunt Gwen and Uncle Arthur are the only ones in the house who don't have magic. Actually, neither does baby Tommy, but he's still too small to count as a person. I couldn't wait to see Ben Johnson's face when Marta levitates the salt over to her end of the table, or when Tommy blows out the candles and Morgana lights them again with a flash of her eyes. I don't think Jenna's told him about that little quirk of our family. She had to explain out our Aunts and Uncle who aren't really related to us, and he probably found it weird that they all sound like they sprung from Arthurian legend. Which they did, but he wouldn't believe that.

Jenna had pleaded with the various magical people in our family to keep their special talents quiet when she brought Ben to meet them. It didn't go down well. Morgana said she refused to hide who she was in her own home, 'I had enough of that from Camelot,' she had explained. Marta can't help it, really. She's like Dad- the magic is so instinctual she doesn't even realize she was using it. It comes with more of a strain for me.

The power hierarchy goes somewhat like this: Me, Morgana, Jenna, Marta, Dad. That's a simplified version; it is actually a lot more complicated. I'm almost as powerful as Morgana, Jenna is much more powerful than both of us, Marta is slightly more powerful than Jenna and Dad is the top. His blood sings with magic. It's so strong you can feel him coming a mile off. Speak of the devil…

'Dad's almost home,' I said, standing up and grabbing a breadstick as well. Marta nodded, also sensing him, and Morgana looked proudly at us.

'Good,' Mum called from the kitchen. 'When he and Arthur arrive can you send them to the kitchen?'

'Sure,' I called back, smirking.

'She wants to make sure they don't mess things up for Jenna,' Marta said, grinning, biting her breadstick with her molars.

Both of them are frightened of my mother, Arthur especially. The Knights, who live next door, treat her with high respect. I don't know quite how she does it, but she always manages to strike terror into their hearts. I wish I knew how to do that. Some of the boys in my class could do with a healthy dose of fear. Jerks, the lot of them. Maybe I could get Jenna and Marta to transport them to the underground cavern and get the dragon to roar at them. That would definitely strike terror into their hearts.

The door opened and we could all hear Dad and Uncle Arthur tussling to get to the dining room first. Morgana gave a long-suffering sigh and Gwen shook her head, grinning.

'Hello, everyone!' Arthur called as he, inevitably, got there first.

'Hello Uncle Arthur,' me and Marta chorused.

'Hello Arthur,' Morgana said, and Arthur went over to kiss Gwen and ruffle Tommy's hair. See what I mean? All the time. The poor kid probably has friction burns or something.

Dad strolled in, trying to look like Arthur hadn't just decked him in the hall. We all knew he had, anyway. Mum had removed all the breakables, after the third vase got smashed. Anything in the hall is plastic or soft, so the two big kids don't hurt themselves.

'Mum wants both of you in the kitchen,' Marta said immediately, nibbling daintily on her second breadstick. They both sloped off, looking apprehensive. Marta tutted and looked at the clock.

'When _is _Jenna coming? I'm really _hungry!' _

'Stop moaning Marta,' I said tiredly, reaching over for another breadstick. Morgana slapped my hand and I groaned, before sitting back in my seat and holding out a hand. My eyes flashed and one breadstick trembled, rattled around in the pot for a few seconds, before finally deciding to fly into my hand. Morgana clapped and I did a mock bow, knowing that Marta could have done it much better.

'Oooh, look!' Marta said, rushing to the window and peering round the curtain. 'It's them!'

'Really!' I said, jumping up and knocking my chair over. Rushing to the window I saw Jenna approaching the door nervously, clinging tightly to Ben's hand. He already knew me; I went to the same school as Jenna, but Marta hadn't started yet (she was only ten) and so I decided that if I opened the door, he would at least be eased into it a little more gently. Besides, the day would come when I would bring a boy home- although that day did seem very far away- and Jenna had promised she'd do the same for me.

'Hey!' I said, as I opened the door. Ben smiled at me, looking completely at ease. Jenna gave me a 'help!' look, holding tightly to Ben's hand, trying to hold him back.

'Good luck,' I muttered, and she gave me a downright petrified squeak, before leading Ben into the dining room, looking for all the world like she was about to be executed. I followed quickly, not wanting to miss out on all the fun.

'How nice to meet you Ben,' Morgana was saying, getting up from the table and going over to shake his hand. Gwen waved from the corner, but didn't get up as Tommy was making a lot of mess with his food.

'You too,' he said politely, taking Morgana's hand. As they touched, he gasped and whipped his hand away. Morgana smiled engagingly as Jenna gave her a murderous look.

'Strange…' Ben said, looking down at his hand. 'That was quite a static shock.'

'I suppose it is rather humid,' Morgana said good-naturedly. I snickered. It was January, and fricking cold as well.

'Yeah,' he said, confused. Jenna glared at Marta and I (we were both giggling), and then led Ben to the table and sat down.

That dinner had to be the funniest thing I've ever seen, and I watch a lot of comedy. Ben's face, whenever Marta attracted the tomato sauce like a sort of weird condiment magnet, or when Dad poured his water using his hand, but not actually touching the jug, was priceless. Mum looked annoyed, but soon joined in the fun, asking Arthur about medieval fighting techniques. Arthur was only too happy to oblige, and told us how they used to do it in the 'old days'.

'We never had any of these newfangled gun things,' he said airily, waving a hand and knocking Marta's water over. Dad evaporated it with a golden flash. I could see Jenna sinking lower and lower into her seat as Ben got more and more freaked out. He hid it well, though, and laughed and chatted as though we were completely normal. We all subtly exchanged impressed glances. Ben was doing well.

Jenna managed to last all through the meal without setting anyone on fire in her anger, which showed her huge self control. But even her nerve failed, and as soon as Ben had scraped the last mouthful of lemon meringue pie from his plate he found himself dragged away by his girlfriend. He managed a hasty goodbye and a heartfelt thank-you before he disappeared round the door. We all sat in silence until we heard the front door bang shut. Then we all burst out laughing.

Marta and Arthur high-fived, Dad winked at me and even Mum and Gwen looked amused.

'I think he behaved admirably,' Morgana said, helping herself to more red wine.

'He definitely passed the test,' Dad said happily. 'See?' he said to Mum, an eyebrow raised. 'We did it in Jenna's best interests.'

'I'm sure,' she replied, raising an eyebrow right back at him.

I knew where they'd gone. A few years ago Jenna had taken me into the woods behind our house, and shown me the place where Arthur and the others had slept for 1400 years. Beyond that, she told me she had found a huge underground cavern, which held the last dragon on earth. I suspected she often snuck out to ask for help, or just be on her own. I had a feeling she would tell Ben about our family there. It might make it easier to believe if there was a huge dragon sitting beside you.

'Can you go and tell Jenna that she needs to be back by nine?' mum asked me. I think that she knows I know about the dragon. And she knows I know she knows I know and I'm getting _really_ confused now.

'Mum,' I whined, 'I don't want to go out. And anyway, she won't want to hear that. She'll get all grumpy.'

Jenna has a bad habit of shooting the messenger. Something mum used a lot, and she often sent Marta and I to do her dirty work.

Mum just gave me a look that, even sans eye-flashing, was strong enough to scare the living daylights out of me.

'Fine, fine,' I grumbled, grabbing my coat from the hallway and slamming the front door behind me. I decided to take the scenic route, rather than the direct course- I was reluctant to tell Jenna straight away.

We all knew the woods behind our house like the backs of our hands. There were the tame public footpaths, bare and empty from the wear of many feet tramping over the plants, and the more exciting tracks, meandering and twisting as only animal trails can, that led you to secret areas of the forest that felt as though they hadn't changed much from when Dad was my age. Maybe because I was a magical creature too, but these areas seemed to hum with mystical energy and intrigue.

I dove through the bushes, feeling relatively happy despite my reluctance to leave the house. The January winds had brought freezing air from the north, which whipped around my coat and chilled me to the bone. I shivered and rubbed him gloveless hands together, but then the thick vegetation grew sparser and I came out into a clearing, a lake glittering in the wintry sun. But there was something odd; I drew closer, and saw the water had not frozen.

Every other lake, pond and puddle was covered by a thick layer of ice in the below-freezing temperatures, but this lake was still lapping quietly at the shore. Edging closer, I gingerly dipped my hand in, and gasped out loud. The water was… well, _warm. _I withdrew my hand quickly, staring at it in shock. Then I carefully submersed it again. This time, as well as the strange warmth the water had, I felt a buzz of energy, of magic. It entered my skin and seemed to flow into my veins, taking the warm magic around my body. I felt _powerful. _Was this how the others felt, all the time? It was exhilarating.

With my hand still in the water, I held up a hand.

'_Cwmcilkry,' _I said, my voice louder than normal, the sound echoing round the trees that fringed the lake. A strong wind built up, whipping the water in the middle of the water into a circular shape, before rising and separating from the surface completely, becoming a floating sphere of flowing, warm water.

I let it drop, amazed. I would never have been able to do that on my own.

'Having fun?' came a musical voice from beside me. I screamed and jumped back, taking my hand out of the water. The magic left me, and I felt strangely bereft. The woman sitting next to me laughed.

'I'm sorry I startled you,' she said, and I stared at her, confused and still breathing hard from my shock. She looked human, but I felt the same buzz from her as I'd felt from the water.

'Who are you?' I asked, sticking with the safest question. What are you seemed rude.

'I'm Freya, Lady of the Lake,' she said, gesturing to the water. I nodded, not able to respond.

'You're Merlin's daughter,' she said.

'I… how do you know?' I asked. The way she said Dad's name, like a caress…

'I met your father, long ago. He saved me, and I promised him a favour.' She smiled, and I remembered who she was.

'You're the Bastet!'

'I was,' she said, pain crossing her face. 'But now I belong to the Lake, sworn to protect the gateway to Avalon. As will you.'

'Errr... what?' I said. Shock rendered me inarticulate.

'You always wondered why you weren't as powerful as your sisters?' she asked. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

'Your power is bound to water, this water especially,' she said, motioning towards the lake.

'Oh,' I said, and then I remembered another thing.

'You were one of Dad's old girlfriends!' I said, groaning. They kept cropping up. Freya smiled.

'I have loved your father ever since I met him, for all my life… or death,' she said sadly, gazing at the ever-moving water. 'My salvation is also my prison.'

'You really need to get over him,' I mumbled. Freya laughed, startled.

'I do,' she agreed, 'but how can I meet anyone new, when I am chained to this lake?'

I admit, she had me stumped.

'Well… there is one,' she mused, dipping her feet in the water.

'Who?' I asked, eagerly. Freya was comfortable to talk to, like one of my sisters. I suppose we have the same magical water running through our veins.

'There is a fisherman, who comes here every evening at six… he carries such sadness…' she sighed. 'I can feel the emotions through the water into which he casts his line.'

'What happened to him?' I asked, interested.

'His family have died, from a car crash. His wife, his two little sons… his parents have long since died of old age, and I wish I could go up and comfort him, but I must be content with watching him from below.'

'Why? Why can't you go up and talk to him?' I asked. Freya cast me a sad look, and held up her arms.

'Do I look human to you?' she asked, and I realized she was wearing a very old-fashioned dress, and her outline shone with a mystical blue light.

'But how does he not realize this lake is… abnormal?' I asked, referring to the absurdly warm temperature and the non-icyness.

'Humans do not notice that which they cannot understand,' Freya said, smiling. 'They are blissfully ignorant.'

'But then, surely, he wouldn't notice anything different about you!' I said excitedly. Freya grimaced.

'Apart from the fact that I can barely walk three steps away from the shore and before being crippled with pain and unable to hear, see, feel or think,' she said bitterly. I sighed.

'You can still talk to him.' Freya nodded, and then her clothes seemed to drip, melting and swirling, before becoming more modern. Almost a mirror image of my own, except they suited her more and flattered her figure. As yet, I had barely any curves to speak of.

'Brilliant!' I exclaimed, before getting to the interesting part.

'So, what does he look like?'

-----

I visited Freya often after that first fateful meeting. She taught me what it meant to be a Lady of the Lake, or a guardian of Avalon, and I gave her tips on her new acquaintance with the sad fisherman, whose name was James.

On Freya's request, I didn't tell Dad. She preferred that he believed her dead, or long gone- she didn't want to complicate things. We became very close, and she became like a sister to me. Not an elderly sister, like Jenna, who told me about the world and gave advice, as Freya was about as worldly-wise as Tommy, having been stuck in a lake for the better part of a thousand years- not a younger sister, like Marta, always up for a cuddle or an argument.

She was more like a twin, someone who shared the same core as me- the ever flowing, ever-twisting water, which stayed warm and unfrozen.

Morgana was surprised and pleased at the leaps and bounds my spell casting was taking. Dad was proud, saying that I had finally come into my own and Jenna was glad I no longer needed to borrow her iPod charger. Even though she didn't actually need it, it was always good to have for show, just in case. Jenna didn't really want her friends to know she could charge it using her hand.

Ben, having survived his first trip to our house, came around a lot more. Once Jenna had spilled the beans, he was a lot more relaxed, and was fascinated in our gifts. Dad made him swear not to tell anyone, but I doubted he would anyway. He'd want to protect Jenna, not expose her, and anyway, who would believe him?

Our family grew bigger, and the magic flourished. Tommy grew. I grew, much to my delight. Freya grew closer to James. Jenna grew closer to Ben. Marta grew in strength, which was only slightly scary. And everything seemed to be going right.

So, of course, that was exactly when everything started to go wrong.


	3. Loud and Clear

_It was cold. Extremely cold. The wind whipped through my meagre layers of clothing and I shivered violently, having once again forgotten to put anything substantial on. I was always wearing the same thing- a long, flowing white dress that billowed about my legs and slipped over my skin like silk._

_I was surrounded by the usual white fog, though I could see occasional flashes of orange and gunshots echoed out of the misty depths. I wanted to see what was happening, but the thick blanket never dissipated, and I remained disappointed. _

_As I stared into the fog a figure appeared, first as a vague silhouette, then growing clearer and sharper as they drew closer. It was Alle, and she was holding out her hands to me. In them lay an old silver sword, shining in the pale light._

'_Take it,' she whispered to me, her eyes welling with silver tears and her body shaking with the effort of holding the heavy sword in position. 'Take it, please. Take it.'_

'_Why?' I cried, the wind whipping my voice away. 'What's the matter, what's happening?' But she merely looked at me, her tears falling onto the sword and gleaming like diamonds. I reached out to the weapon, despite every fibre of my being rejecting, to stop Alle's utter despair, but as my fingertips drew close she vanished, whirling away as white smoke, and I was left alone once more, crying out her name into the whiteness, completely and wholly alone._

And then I woke up, my chest heaving, my own tears sliding down my face and into my mouth, the salt staying on my mouth and stinging my chapped lips. I lay there for a while, shaking, before I mustered the energy to slip out of my bed and walk to the bathroom. I padded out into the hallway, treading carefully so as not to step on any creaky sections of the floor and wake anyone else up. Reaching the bathroom, I poured myself a glass of cold water, and the cold helped to clear my head. I washed my face, splashing the water into my eyes to wake me up and clear the cold sweat that beaded on my brow.

This was the fourth time in a month that I'd had the same dream. Each time, it repeated itself- I stood in the fog, and there seemed to be a battle going on outside it, but I could never see or move. Then Alle appeared with the sword, begging me to take it, even though something about it made me shudder. And every time I tried, she and the sword vanished.

Aunt Morgana was the only one who knew the entire contents of my dream. She had a lot of experience with dreams, as she herself was a seer, and had given me a magical bracelet to wear to give me dreamless sleep. It sounds like something straight out of Harry Potter, my favourite books as I was growing up; as I have magic, it all seemed so real. I wished that there was a magical school where I could learn spells and meet others like myself, instead of having to hide my powers and learn useless things like maths and English. I could do them easily. I could do any job I wanted- the magic would comply. But Dad refused to let us tell anyone about our family. The only person who knows who isn't a blood relation or an old mythical figure from Arthurian legend is Ben, my eldest sister's boyfriend.

But Jenna is away at university studying Physics, and Ben was (luckily) in the same university as her. I had a feeling that there was magic involved, and I was probably right. I didn't mention it though; if Jenna hadn't told me she definitely hadn't told Dad, and I didn't want to cause trouble.

Alle was taking her GCSE's, and was constantly stressed and tired, so she didn't have much time for me any more. I have been getting quite lonely over the past few months - with Jenna gone and Alle distant, I was pretty much on my own. I couldn't make close friends, as I could never bring anyone home, and if I hung around someone too much then I knew that I would end up revealing my magic by mistake. To me, magic is like breathing, an involuntary reaction to most problems. I struggle to keep it under control.

I used to feel bad about being so powerful compared to my sisters. I didn't want them to think that I'd taken it all and left nothing for them. But they both have specific powers; Alle confessed to me that her's is primarily water based, which surprised me, as she had never been that fond of swimming. According to her, it was the chlorine, and I supposed that made sense, as she loved going in the sea.

It turns out Jenna's a dragonlord- or lady. Dad was surprised at this, as only sons were supposed to inherit the ability from their fathers, and even then only when their father was dead. It had happened that way for him. But somehow Jenna defies these rules, and she thinks that there are so few dragonlords left in the world, due to the shortage of dragons, that the magic has become indiscriminate. Dad agrees. I guess they would know.

I almost envy my sisters. They've figured out who they are, how their powers work, and can therefore tune them more finely. Mine's just a big mush.

The magic runs through my blood, under my eyes. I can feel it, pushing at my skin, trying to be free, nearly all the time. I'm a ticking clock- one day I will no longer have the strength to hold it back, and I'm afraid of the destruction it could cause. It's like a caged beast.

Everyone believes I received my magical prowess from my father, who is supposed to be the most powerful warlock ever to exist. And he is. But I haven't. I know I haven't. His magic is powerful, but civilised- it can do anything he asks it too, but only when he asks it too. He can control it, and has always been able to. Mine feels like a dangerous creature, trying to gnaw through the bars I have constructed around it.

It's got to the point that I'm afraid of myself, of what I could do if I let my guard down for even a fraction of a moment. Feeling this powerful all the time is no picnic.

I stared at my tired, drawn face in the mirror of the bathroom, every imperfection in clear sight because of the harsh neon strip lights. I, out of my sisters, look the least like Dad and the most like mum. I have her brown hair, her brown eyes, and her easily tanned complexion. My siblings have pale skin that burns almost at once, raven hair and piercing blue eyes. Jenna has often commented on the irony that I have the most of Dad's power and yet look completely different to him. But it isn't true. I don't have his power. If anything, Jenna does. Her's is the civilised, more potent kind. Mine is wild, untrained, and therefore less powerful. I can use it for mundane spells, domestic stuff, but I don't want to try anything that requires too much power. I might not be able to control it.

Even now, as I stare into the mirror, I can see my dark brown eyes becoming lighter, shot through with gold. My school friends have often commented on how unusual my eyes are, and how they wish they had eyes like mine. And I think, no, you don't.

I see Morgana and Dad give me worried looks now and then. They can see that the battle inside me is turning towards the magic's favour, that I'm fighting to keep my sanity. If this is how the priests and priestesses of the old religion felt, I can understand why many went mad.

I slip back down the landing to my room and quietly close the door. As I snuggle down into my covers I glance at the light-up digital clock- it's three o'clock in the morning. I have three and a half hours more sleep until I have to get up for school. Hoping I don't have the dream again, I slide peacefully into unconsciousness.

Nothing of note happened that week until the Saturday, when Jenna came for a visit. It was one of the rare times that she didn't have Ben with her, and for that I was glad. The three of us had a few sisterly chats in my room, which was the largest. I felt normal, and our laughing banter took my mind of things. At least, for a little while.

Jenna had brought us back some Belgian chocolates, and we ate them secretly. Mum hates us eating them for some reason, and usually bans them, but Jenna had bought some in London, when she was at University, and brought it back for us. We spent the rest of the day in hyper-active mood, with our magic slightly wilder and more out of control than usual. Or the other's magic was, anyway. Gwen snuck in and had a chocolate, as did Morgana when Gwen told her about our contraband. Tommy wandered in as well, but he doesn't like chocolate and so Gwen had to sneak him a lollipop out from the sweet cupboard. Even Dad came in, even though he declined a chocolate and instead, like Tommy, commissioned Gwen to get him a lollipop.

We had a Saturday night sleepover- Jenna and Alle dragged their mattresses in and we watched chick-flicky films before dropping off into the popcorn. It was that night that the dream changed.

It started off the same, with the fog, and the muffled bangs and screaming coming from the depths, but instead of Alle approaching me with a sword, a woman in a scarlet dress and long, black hair glided towards me. Her lips were a dark red, and her eyes were the bluest I had ever seen, and practically all my family have blue eyes.

'_Marta,'_ she said, smiling secretly at me. I tried to reply, but found I could not.

'_Marta,' _she repeated, and then she reached towards me with a finger outstretched. As the tip touched my forehead, I screamed as pain shot through my body, and I woke up as I had before, sweating and panting as though I had just run a hundred metres sprint.

I didn't know who the woman was, but she felt familiar. The aura of magic which surrounded her reminded me of my own- wild and uncontrollable. And yet, despite her crazed smile, her eyes were not fogged with madness. She looked alert and lucid. Somehow, she could control her magic, and I knew I would do anything to find out how she did.

The weekend flew by, and all too soon Jenna had to return to her hall of residence, and it was Sunday evening. I dreaded school, because I was always on alert- I couldn't relax, because if I did, I might let my magic slip.

Once again, I dreamt of the woman in red, except, instead of reaching out and touching my forehead, she held out a silver cup, filled to the brim with rain water. It was obvious to me that I should reach out and take the chalice, to drink from it, but as I try to take it Dad appears and dashes the cup from the woman's grasp, except he was a lot younger, with his clothes burnt and his eyes cold and fierce. I had never before been afraid of my father, but after that…

I was tired the next morning, as I had been tossing and turning all night. When I arrived at school I headed straight to my form room and slumped on a table, trying to catch a few minutes sleep before having to go to lessons. Luck was not on my side, however; one of my friends had got an early lift into school and came in just as I had settled down. She seemed determined to tell me all about her weekend, so I had to feign interest for the next ten minutes. By the time she had finished, registration had begun, and I lost out on any chance of a few minutes extra sleep.

Thoroughly exhausted, I barely heard my teacher dismiss us and only realised that the whole class was leaving when my friend poked me in the arm. I stood up unsteadily, swaying slightly, my head dizzy and muddled.

It seemed as though my eyes were going blurry. Everything dimmed, ran into the other like watercolour paint. The room flickered before my eyes; it was like watching a really old TV set. It was as though a second image was inlaid over the top, and as I blinked, this image grew stronger. It was exactly the same as the one underneath except the colours were sharper, brighter, almost like caricatures of colours. And standing by the smart board the woman in the red dress from my nightmare stood, smiling, beckoning me over with an index finger.

I blinked again, and the image vanished. My friend was looking at me, worry plain on her face.

'Are you ok?' she asked. 'Do you want to go to Matron's?'

'No,' I replied. 'I'm fine. Honestly.' She didn't look as though she believed me, but left me alone all the same.

That night, I had the dream again.

I dreaded walking into my form room the next day. The second image still haunted me, and I couldn't help thinking I knew what it was, if only I could see it again. It frightened me though, more than anything ever had, more than my magic did.

I sat down gingerly in my usual chair, dumping my bag on the floor beside me. I was soon joined by a couple of my friends, all with dark rings and yawning profusely. If anything, watching their tired expressions made me feel even more fatigued, like a worn pain of trousers down to the thinnest material. I was stretched tight.

It seemed to be normal, and I breathed a short sigh of relief. But I shouldn't have relaxed so soon. About halfway through registration, the weird flickering happened again, and I saw the woman beckoning from the board. Only this time, it grew stronger and didn't fade. I shut my eyes, and willed the strange world to go away, but when I opened them again, my class had completely disappeared and I stood alone in the copy of the classroom with the woman in the red dress.

It felt familiar, that world. Stranger than the normal one, but more alive, more vibrant, more _magical. _

_Avalon._

I knew it; knew the name of a place I had never been to, never heard about. It felt like home, and the woman, who was walking towards me, felt like another sister.

'You are here, Marta,' she said, her voice calm, but her eyes excited and luminous.

'How do you do it?' I blurted out, unable to stop myself. The woman seemed momentarily thrown.

'Do what?' she asked.

'Keep your magic under control like that?' I asked. 'It is like mine, isn't it? Your magic, I mean?'

'Yes,' was all she said, and she stared at me contemplatively for a while before speaking again.

'You have the old religion in you, Marta.'

'No I don't,' I replied sullenly. 'Dad and my sisters do. They can control their magic. I can't.'

'They have ways to temper their power,' the woman explained. 'Water, dragons; they have a conduit to the magic, a rein, if you will. We are born with none.'

'Then how…' I started, but she hushed me.

'Patience, young one; I will tell you everything in time.'

'I don't have time,' I complained. 'I can't miss any school, and…'

'Here in Avalon,' she cut across me, and when she named the place a jolt ran through me, my magic responding. 'Here we are in time, but not affected by it. You will return to the same time and place as you were in when you left, Marta. Do not worry needlessly.'

I trusted her absolutely- she was like me, how could I not?

'Who are you?' I asked.

'My name is Nimueh,' she said gently and I gasped.

'But… my Dad…'

'He killed me yes, and with reason, too, since I had been in the wrong.' She looked sad for a second. 'On earth, the magic is harder to control. It had turned me wild, and your father had to stop me. I do not begrudge him. But he could have done it a little less painfully.' She grimaced, and although I felt slightly appeased, I couldn't help remembering what Dad had said about the sorceress Nimueh.

'How are you still alive?' I said, much more cautiously now.

'I am not,' she replied simply, smiling. 'Here in Avalon, I am neither alive nor dead- you are neither alive nor dead. On earth you are alive, but here you a just magic. Here it is easy to control, to form, to guide.'

She was right. I hadn't felt the need to suppress the magic inside me, and instead of pacing like a caged and resentful beast, it seemed more like a puppy; eager to play, friendly and loving.

'I can teach you to be a priestess of the old religion, to become mistress of life and death, to look after and preserve the magic in the earth. It may have hidden since humans have developed, but it has not dwindled in strength. Your sister will guard the gateway, and you will guard the world.'

'My sister… you mean Alle?' I asked, thinking it through.

'The one who has the water affinity, yes. Your eldest sister will save the skies.'

This sounded an awful lot like prophecies of doom to me, and I chose to ignore them. Better to forget and face them when they came than worry about them until they arrived.

'Why are you teaching me?' I asked, doubtful of her motives. I mean, she tried to kill my Dad, and his Mum, and his Uncle _and_ Uncle Arthur. Don't blame me if I was a _teensy_ bit wary.

She sighed deeply, running her hands through her long black hair and looking remorseful.

'I owe your father after all that I did- and tried to do. I knew he would never be able to train you himself, as he has a different kind of magic. I would fill in where he and Morgana Le Fay could not.'

'Errr… thank you,' I said, awkwardly. She laughed, her red lips opening slightly.

'You're welcome. Now, follow me.'

She turned away and walked towards what would have been the door into the corridor of the school, but it opened instead onto a beautiful orchard, apple trees heavily perfuming the air. It was unreal, not only because of the overly-bright sunshine, but the trees had both blossom and fruit upon their laden boughs.

She set off through the trees and I followed, gazing around at the animals frolicking in the grass. There were brightly coloured birds of all shapes and sizes, one flamed coloured, which I suspected to be a Phoenix. There were squirrels and pigeons and starlings, but also griffins, sphinxes, other mythical creatures. I even thought I saw the white flank of a unicorn flash in between two large trunks.

As we travelled further into the orchard, which seemed to go on forever, the trees grew larger, their branches wider; the blossoms wider; the fruit greener and the smell more potent. I felt no need to talk. For once I felt at peace, the magic inside me not fighting against my flesh bounds but relaxing into a state of peace and co-habitation. There was no need to talk, as nothing needed to be said; everything was around us to talk.

Eventually, however, the heavenly walk came to an end. Nimueh halted in the middle of a small, perfectly circular clearing, a stone shining like quartz in the middle. Stcking out of the stone was a sword.

'Excalibur,' I breathed, stepping forward and reaching out to run my finger over the inscription on the stone; whoever pulled it out of the stone would be the true high king of Britain.

'Pull it out,' Nimueh told me. I looked at her, confused.

'But I'm not…'

'Only on earth can the true heir pull out the sword,' she explained. 'We are in Avalon, on the Isle of Apples.'

I reached for the smooth hilt and pulled it out, marvelling at the weight of the metal.

'I didn't think it would be so heavy,' I said, waving it around.

'Many think that of Kingship,' Nimueh said, laughing at my non-existent sword skills. 'It looks easy and glamorous, but it needs a strong stomach and a sound mind. Put it back in the stone.'

I did as she said, sliding it back in the quartz, at first afraid it would break but relaxing when I saw it slide through the rock like butter.

'You have seen the sword, now see its companion.' Nimueh held out a belt, woven from green material and exquisitely decorated.

'This is the belt, that when worn, will prevent a single drop of blood being spilt from the wearer. Possibly more precious than the sword.'

I examined it, feeling the material slide through my hands, and then handed it back to Nimueh, not wanting to give it back. She smiled and shook her head.

'Keep it. It belongs to you. Whomever you give it to will be protected from wounds. Use it wisely.'

'Thank you,' I said, sincerely, but I was worried by the ominous prediction. Why would anyone I know need to be protected from wounds? But I did not worry myself too much by her words. The time when I would follow her advice would come, and I would just have to wait for it.

'Put it on and keep it safe,' Nimueh told me, so I fastened it around my waist, dropping my shirt over to hide it. 'It should also help you to keep your magic under control until we meet again.'

'What, do I have to go?' I complained. Nimueh smiled.

'You must return to earth, yes. But do not worry; each morning I shall teach you to be a priestess of the old religion, and the secrets of your magic will be revealed. But for now, you must leave the Isle.'

'When I become a priestess, will I get a dress like yours?' I asked, hopefully. We laughed together.

'Till we meet again, Marta,' she said, and the orchard flickered about me until the trees, the scents and the grass beneath my feel vanished, to be replaced by my form room.

'French next,' one of my friends groaned, and I was startled by the almost immediate return to reality. But I could still feel the belt tied around my waist, and what Nimueh had said was true; my magic felt like almost a part of me, like it had on the Isle. I smiled. It was going to be a good day.

To be continued…

Three sets of three one-shots. Three is a powerful magic rune.


End file.
